


B-Side: The Deleted Scenes

by kadabralin



Series: If Love is the Answer [4]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2019-11-07 21:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17967986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadabralin/pseuds/kadabralin
Summary: Bonus chapters and extras forUnder Pressure.





	1. Beat Me Up, Squippy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small little one-shot of Alex and Squip, after the events of Chp. 10 in Under Pressure.

"Hello, Alex."

Squip casually leaned against the wall, arms crossed lazily across his chest, but his expression was anything but lackadaisical. He gazed at Alex intensely, unblinking, an unsatisfied contortion to his mouth. He said nothing else as he waited for Alex to respond.

"You look better," Alex simpered, not bothering to actually acknowledge Squip from where he stood, dusting a nearby shelf. It didn't seem to actually _need_ the dusting, but Alex carefully wiped the surface with the cloth anyway. "Your progress is A-plus by the way, I'm very impressed."

"Did you really need to hit him?"

Alex's hand paused only for a nanosecond, so fast no one else but Squip would have noticed, then he resumed his dusting. "Wow. Cutting right to the chase, huh."

"Of course." Squip smiled, but it was hardly friendly. Alex finally gave him a glance.

"It was an accident. Honestly, I was holding back and everything! I knew he was unprepared, but I didn't think he was going to be _that_ helpless."

"And it didn't occur to you to let _me_ handle it?" 

Alex shrugged, an exaggerated jerk of his shoulders, and finally whipped around to face Squip completely.

"Well, for starters, I had you KO'd. And, you know, Jeremy's kind of hard to say no to, but you already know that." He grinned at Squip, who didn't return the camaraderie. Alex's smile faded just an increment, waiting for Squip to react any way at all, but when he didn't he sighed with a trill of his lips. "You can't seriously be mad. Linda's still chewing me out as we speak."

"Who said I was mad?" Squip pulled away from the wall and dropped his arms to his sides. Alex eyed him carefully as Squip approached and then stopped a foot away. "I'm just assessing the situation."

"I mean, you _look_ mad." 

Squip ignored the comment. "Can I trust you, Alex?"

"What? Of _course_. I'm honest to a fault." Alex responded cheekily and Squip rolled his eyes, less than impressed. 

"You know, I actually believe you wouldn't hurt him _intentionally._ "

"Great. What's the purpose of this conversation, again? I'm _cleaning_." Alex waved the dusty cloth in the air, sending particles of dust flying. He didn't seem too concerned about it.

"I want to make something clear to you." Squip leaned forward, one hand on Alex's shoulder, the other firmly grasping his chin. Alex simply stared in silence, eyes glinting, mouth faintly curved in amusement. "I'm willing to believe you and Linda don't have malicious intentions. _However_ ," Squip lifted Alex's chin slightly and gave his jaw an uncomfortable squeeze, "if anything _else_ happens to him, then I will be angry."

"Oooh, is that a threat?" Alex's voice dropped, steeped with mirth and sarcasm. "You'll what, beat me up? You did such a fantastic job the other day." The curve of his mouth deepened. "Maybe I'll let you do it this time. Come on, try me." 

Squip pulled his hand back from Alex's chin only to shove it back in his face, grabbing him and pushing him aside. Alex stumbled back a few steps as Squip straightened. 

"I'll be taking on any and all physical activities with Jeremy."

"Good idea to me." Alex no longer looked entertained. "I wasn't planning on trying again."

"We have an understanding, then." Squip turned around and walked off in the direction of Jeremy's room. "Good luck with Linda, by the way."

Squip couldn't see Alex anymore, but he could certainly hear the displeasure in his voice.

"Gee. Thanks."


	2. Too Drunk for Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Under Pressure Chp 16 aftermath.

By the time they left the bar, it was pushing two in the morning, Jeremy couldn't stop hiccuping, and Squip had unceremoniously stolen someone's table to take a nap. Michael thought about shepherding everyone home earlier in the evening, at a more responsible hour and before Jeremy drank too much, but DJ Fuzzbear was still performing and he had a pocket full of quarters to burn.

Besides, it was Jeremy's birthday, and he seemed to be enjoying himself, even when he started getting mad at the arcade machines. Jeremy had always been sort of a sore loser.

Jeremy crawled into the back of the car with Squip, who still looked half asleep, and the drive home would have been quiet if it hadn't been for his constant diaphragm spasms. It was bordering on ridiculous.

Michael glanced at him from the rearview mirror. "Jeremy, buddy, you might wanna try holding your breath or something."

"But then I can't," _hic_ , "can't _breathe._ "

"Yeah, that's kind of the point, dude." 

Squip leaned over, nuzzling into Jeremy's ear. "I could always shock you, that might help." His smile and voice were teasing, but Jeremy's mouth curved slightly into a frown.

"You can still do that?"

"Of course I can, I'm still in your brain, after all." Squip continued to smile, amused, as he pet Jeremy's hair.

"Don't shock me."

Michael continued to shoot glances at them from the mirror, expression a little more concerned than the mild amusement from before.

"Silas can do what now?"

"Don't worry about it, Michael, just drive." Squip pressed a few kisses into the skin of Jeremy's neck and shoulder, eliciting ticklish giggles and a few more hiccups. Michael elected not to look anymore.

The hiccups still hadn't stopped by the time they got home.

"Okay, so, I'm going to bed." Michael dropped his keys on a nearby counter, watching Jeremy clumsily pull off his jacket. "Don't stay up too late, party animals. Try not to puke on anything."

It was already 2:30.

Jeremy wandered into the kitchen, making a beeline for the refrigerator and the awaiting promise of leftover chocolate cake. It sat on the shelf, loosely covered in plastic wrap, waiting to be devoured and sate his alcohol-induced starvation. Before he could actually pull it down from the shelf, Squip gently pushed him away and shut the refrigerator door in his face.

"You're too drunk for cake, Jeremy."

He stared, blinking, uncomprehending. "Ex-- excuse me?"

Squip folded his arms against his chest, leaning lazily against the refrigerator. "You're too drunk for cake."

"I'm not too _drunk_ for-- for _cake!_ " This was, of course, an utter outrage. It was his _birthday_ (nevermind that it was now after midnight and technically no longer his birthday anymore). How could Squip deny him this? An utter tragedy. "Come on!"

Squip didn't budge. "You'll enjoy it more when you're sober."

"Or I can enjoy it right-- right _now_."

His protests were ignored as Squip moved away to the fridge and gently pushed him toward the table, where a plate of bread, smothered in peanut butter, and a glass of milk waited for him. Without much prompting, he sat down, but then he looked at Squip suspiciously. 

"I thought you were drunk, too."

The corer of Squip's mouth flicked up mischievously. "I temporarily shut off the effect."

"That's cheating," Jeremy whined at the plate in front of him. He thought back to the Halloween party when the alcohol had temporarily shut Squip off so he couldn't boss him around anymore. Too bad there hadn't been cake then.

"Eat."

Jeremy sullenly took a bite of peanut butter-covered bread, wishing all the while that it was double fudge chocolate chip ganache cake instead.

At least it got rid of the hiccups.

He crawled into bed, teeth brush, face washed, clothes removed, but Jeremy was frowning up at the ceiling, nose wrinkled. Squip slid into bed next to him, resting his chin on Jeremy's shoulder.

"Are you _still_ mad at me?"

"Go away, cake-blocker." He mumbled it, not with much venom or actual weight, but Jeremy wouldn't look at him. He felt Squip's mouth smile softly against his skin.

"You wound me, I'm only helping." Jeremy's nose wrinkled a little more, tilting his head to scowl at him. Squip chuckled in return as he slid an arm around Jeremy's waist, tugging him closer. "I'll make it up to you, then."

Jeremy tried not to smile, digging down deep to stubbornly cling to petty annoyance and resentment, but it all dissipated under the brush of playful, chaste kisses against his mouth and jaw. He caved in against Squip's chest in defeat.

"I'll still be mad in the morning." 

"No, you won't."

He was right, it was an empty threat.

"I'm not gonna share it with you."

Jeremy hid his grin in Squip's neck, a response to his scandalized expression.

That one wasn't a threat, it was a promise.


	3. Operating System Obsolete

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter for Under Pressure Chapter 19.

There was a certain stillness to it, a serenity to the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Squip looked him over, gently sweeping bangs out of his face, observing the scraps on his cheek, the scab on his lip, the contusions around his throat. Pale. Listless. Lifeless. Asleep.

The injury would take time to heal. There was bruising in his brain, mild bleeding in his skull, and keeping him unconscious would speed the process along. Squip could work uninterrupted, a benefit of the nanotechnology implanted in Jeremy's head, keeping him alive, keeping things from getting worse. But he had to be careful about it, of course. As he reached out and traveled along each synapse and neuron and membrane, undoing the damage he failed to prevent, there was always a risk of error. There was a risk that the damage was too extensive for Squip to fix.

There was a chance, blissfully minor, small, but not statistically insignificant, that Jeremy wouldn't be able to wake up again.

Squip sat at his bedside, eyes closed, Jeremy's hand gently pressed to his lips and held there. So long as Jeremy lived, heart still beating, tissues thriving, organs functioning, Squip would continue to exist. He could be here, physically, outside of Jeremy's head, but what would he possibly do with that kind of life? 

These weren't thoughts that Squip allowed himself to indulge often. They were pointless and unproductive thoughts; the reality of his existence, that fact that he wasn't a person, no matter how convincing his body looked. He was still a _thing_ , an object in Jeremy's brain that he had purchased, and Squip existed for him and him alone. Jeremy could grow to no longer love him, always a possibility given the fickle nature of human emotions, and love someone else instead, but Squip could still be useful. 

They could still talk, and Jeremy would still smile, and live the life he should.

But if Jeremy stayed asleep, growing older and withered as his muscle mass depleted from lack of use, what would be the point? Squip had no other purpose, no other desire to be useful to anyone else. He'd be unmoored and listless, almost a ghost, existing for no other reason than because Jeremy still breathed.

Squip took a moment to consider all his little imperfections. The acne scars; the new unevenness to his nose; chapped lips with some raw skin exposed where Jeremy always bit and chewed, sometimes until it bled; the way he seemed to choke on his words when nervous, unable to dislodge his thoughts from his throat; all his nervous little ticks and fidgets that Squip, a lifetime ago, he had tried to squash and destroy, to improve, to upgrade. They were all little details, precious in their uniqueness. These were important aspects of Jeremy's existence, every one combined to form a single identity, and Squip loved every one, no matter how irritating it could sometimes be.

If Jeremy never woke up, there would be nothing. No warmth. No blush. No awkward fidgeting of his shirt sleeve. 

He'd sleep and Squip would be obsolete.

Broken.

Ineffective.

_Useless._

The word whispered, somewhere deep in his code, some kind of primal fear that threatened to overwhelm every scrap of sense Squip possessed. It buzzed under his synthetic skin, pulsed with every beat of his artificial heart, dug deep into his simulated mockery of a soul. Without Jeremy, he was useless. Without a purpose, he was useless. If he failed, he was useless. He was a machine, and he’d failed to protect the one thing that mattered.

_use͘les̸s҉ ͞u̕s̴e͢l̸es̴s ̡u̶s̢el͡ęs͡s̴_

Squip kissed the bruised skin of Jeremy’s hand and pushed the thoughts aside. He buried them deep and filed them away, because they wouldn’t help. Instead, he focused on the electrical impulses of his brain, on the steady beeping of machines, and the routine arrival of the nurse to check his vitals.

It was absurdly difficult to let them touch him.

But there wasn’t a valid reason to prevent it. It was a hospital. They were here for a reason.

They had a purpose. Squip did not.

* * *

He wished Linda and Ray would shut up.

They’d fared reasonably better than Jeremy, and the mildness of their injuries only seemed to make them more irritable and obnoxious. 

Loud. Aggressive. Angry. 

There’d been police. Squip, only an innocent bystander, uninvolved in the accident, had been mostly ignored. Linda had all the answers, lying smoothly like it’d all been meticulously rehearsed, and Ray nodded dumbly along as he nursed his arm.

But Ray and Linda continued to argue long after the fact.

“You can’t take him.”

Ray was indigent, protective, reeling under the total shift of his world view and driven by a misplaced desire to protect his son from something he’d never fully understand. Linda wanted to take him. It was a reasonable move; the longer they stayed in the hospital, the higher the chance that they’d be found and targeted again. Squip had taken care of the one that’d attacked Jeremy, but the other had vanished, Michael vanishing along with them, and that was a subject not a single one of them had brought up.

Linda was insistent, a stubbornness and setting of her jaw that reminded him distinctly of Jeremy.

The discussion would never cease, and Squip had to put his foot down. He simply didn’t _care_. All that mattered was Jeremy, asleep and healing, and their tedious arguing was

_too much too much._

Unimportant and aggravatingly human.

“If you must argue, do it _outside._ ”

They had the decency to actually adhere to his advice.

* * *

Ray didn’t win the argument.

Squip carried Jeremy carefully in his arms, head nestled against his shoulder, maneuvering through the door and down the hall.

“His bedroom doesn’t have any furniture in it, we can put him on my bed for now-”

“No, we have to stay in the lab.”

“Lab? What lab?”

Squip followed behind the two of them as Linda walked briskly through the kitchen and threw open the door to the basement.

“Linda, we can’t keep him down there!”

She didn’t bother to answer. The basement light buzzed, and dusty light filtered in from the window. This part of the house, clearly, was rarely used. It was damp and smelled of mildew.

“The lab is under the basement, Ray.”

“That’s ridiculous, I’ve lived in this house for over twenty years, there’s nothing-”

He was interrupted by Linda opening a door, a bit of wall shifting away and revealing a dark and neglected staircase. Ray stood there, his world shattered once again, stuttering and gasping in surprise. Squip carefully skirted around him and didn’t give him a second glance.

* * *

Squip started with _The Hobbit_.

There wasn’t anything better to do than to read to Jeremy aloud. He hoped he actually heard it, somewhere subconsciously.

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”

It was fitting, in a quiet, amusing way, considering how far underground they were. Squip certainly wouldn’t describe Linda’s archaic, deprecated laboratory _comfortable_ , though.

He spoke slow and careful, much slower than he ever would if reading for pleasure, but this was for Jeremy and not for him. Squip wanted to make it last, savor every word, and hope the consistent tone of his voice would soothe Jeremy’s damaged and chaotic mind.

Somewhere between _The Council of Elrond_ and _The Ring goes South_ , Jeremy’s father finally gained the confidence to say something to him.

Squip had seen him, time and time again, hovering at Jeremy’s side, shooting nervous and upset glances his way. He hadn’t spoken a word to Ray since the hospital, but Linda had filled him in, and it was obvious Ray had something to say. Every time he tried he gave up and retreated, mouth half open, words dying on his tongue, eyes full of distrust and frustration.

It was very annoying.

“You’re a robot.” It was abrupt and confrontational.

Squip cast him a cursory glance.

“You could call it that.”

He thumbed to the next page of the book and resumed reading.

Ray shifted, rolling his shoulders, puffing his chest, mouth twitching. 

“We— I thought we _bonded_! Over shoes.” 

Squip didn’t even bother to look up this time. The accusatory betrayal in his voice was ridiculous.

“I was being polite.”

Silence.

Ray looked down at Jeremy, and then at the machines Linda had hooked up to him. “I… I don’t know what your intentions are, but I think it’s better for everyone if you didn’t see my son anymore. This… business you and Linda are involved in has done enough damage.”

This time Squip paused, cutting off mid-sentence the adventures of Frodo and the Fellowship. He closed the pages, slowly, looking up and settling the frayed novel in his lap.

Ray was trying to display some kind of dominance, establish a sense of control over the situation, protect his only child. It was almost cute.

Unnecessary.

Misplaced.

Annoying.

Squip considered the benefits of civility. 

He decided against it.

“I don’t care what you think.”

It was to the point and completely true. Jeremy’s father was biologically important, and Jeremy himself cared for him, but Squip had no reason to coddle his feelings. Especially not now.

“Your involvement in this is unfortunate, and I have no desire to let you pretend you have a say. I’ve been much more involved in his life than _you._ ”

Squip let Ray babble incoherently, grunt in frustration, breathe loudly. He hadn’t meant to let the situation actually bother him, but the gall of Ray to tell him what to do, to try and _separate_ them, regardless of effectiveness, simmered somewhere deep in his abdomen and laced his tongue with bitterness.

He swallowed the remaining venom and reopened the book, bringing it up to eye level, cutting Ray from his view.

“Have your existential crisis elsewhere.” 

Ray didn’t try again.

* * *

Sometimes Jeremy was dangerously close to awakening, far too early than acceptable. Squip desperately wanted to let him allow his dreams to push him back to the surface and open his eyes, but he was still broken. Squip couldn’t allow it.

“Go back to sleep, Jeremy.”

He’d soothe and coax him back into the murky depths of unconsciousness, where even dreams couldn’t reach him, and sometimes he wished he could join him there. 

Instead, he was stuck here, and he was quickly running out of things to read.

He was running out of things to read he thought Jeremy would actually enjoy, anyway.

“What are you dreaming about?” Squip spoke to him, soft and tender, never expecting an answer back. He traced his fingers along the outline of his chin and the curse of his lip. “I hope it’s nice.” The upgrade he’d received had cut him off from accessing the subconscious conjurings of his mind. Sometimes he wished he still had that ability, to invade his privacy like that, to see what he was seeing, whether it made him smile or cry or simply make no sense at all.

This was for the best. Jeremy deserved, required, at least some kind of separation between him and the computer in his head. A sense of solitude and seclusion for his own mental health.

It didn’t mean Squip had to like it, but he kept those feelings to himself.

* * *

“You _will_ do as you’re told.”

He’d made a mistake.

He knew it the moment he saw the look in his eyes, the squint of his face, the crookedness of his mouth. 

_Obey._

Jeremy was afraid of him.

Squip drew away, pulling back into himself, strangling the phantom of his former self, the remaining slivers of code that still demanded he _fix it fix you improve reform upgrade command_. It’d slipped out, a moment of desperation and distress, because Jeremy had been asleep for so long, but he was still impaired. Still needed rest. Still broken. He’d known Jeremy wouldn’t take the information about Michael well, but he cared more about Michael than himself, and he wouldn’t _listen listen to me stop resisting let me help you please P̡L̷͡E̡͜A̶̛͘͟͠S̷͏͠͠E҉͏_.

Jeremy had forgiven him, for the hurt and the pain, but the scars were still there, and Squip had betrayed that steadily built trust in a fraction of a second.

_You have to obey._

There wasn’t anything else to say. Squip had already said enough, and he knew, with guilt and regret, that Jeremy would listen now.

The quickening of his breathing and shrinking of his features was a telltale brand of obedience, and Squip loathed every intricate, defunct part of himself.


	4. Caramelldansen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure, cloying fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some cute stuff that happens before everything goes to shit in Under Pressure.

Jeremy's last class of the day had canceled, leaving him with an abruptly free and empty schedule. He considered his options as he walked through the brightly-lit hallway. He could spend the next couple hours in the library, work on a few assignments, and get some studying out of the way. It was the most responsible and mature option. _Or_ he could go home, grab a couple of pints of ice cream on the way, and spend time with Squip before Michael got home. 

That was clearly the obvious choice. 

He could hear the music before he even entered the apartment, the sounds seeping out from the cracks of the door. It was even louder inside, something he hadn't been expecting; he always thought Squip spent his downtime in complete silence with a book, so the noise was a definite surprise. What surprised him most, though, was what Squip was _doing_. Jeremy stood there, pints of ice cream melting in a plastic bag, watching Squip spin around the apartment with the broom. He was always cleaning, always making sure the apartment was neat and tidy, but this was a glimpse of Squip he'd never seen before. 

Squip hadn't noticed him yet, and he certainly wasn't going to interrupt. 

They danced around the apartment for another minute or two, oblivious to Jeremy's muffled laughter and grin. He almost considered recording it, it was too charming _not_ to, but Squip had spun around then and come to a complete stop, now aware that Jeremy was watching him. The music died with a quick press of the TV remote.

"You're home early." 

Jeremy thought he'd spied a brief twinge of embarrassment on Squip's face, but it quickly disappeared.

"Don't let me stop you." He smiled at him. "You looked super into it."

Squip propped the broom up against the wall. "I needed a break from cleaning."

"Okay, so, then you're _not_ cheating on me with the broom? That's a relief."

They frowned, regarding Jeremy for a moment. "I'd never. It's filthy." Jeremy set the bag of ice cream on the counter and stepped further inside. Squip met him in the middle, grabbing him by the hips and pulling Jeremy in closer. "Are you jealous?" 

Jeremy kissed him, sliding his hands up Squip's chest and over his shoulders. "No. I just-- I didn't think you _liked_ dancing. I feel like I discovered a secret weakness."

"It's hardly a weakness."

"Do you, I mean, you never say you want to go out dancing. We can do that. I can take you somewhere..." 

"You and I both know you wouldn't enjoy it."

Jeremy frowned and wanted to protest, but Squip wasn't _wrong_. He'd never particularly enjoyed dancing, or going to places that people typically danced, because they were loud and crowded and full of drunks, usually. And then there were the terrible, awkward school dance experiences that hung like a raincloud over the entire notion. But he'd still be willing to go somewhere if it made Squip happy. He could go out for a night and (try to) dance the night away with him. 

Maybe.

Possibly.

Alcohol would likely need to be involved. That wasn't particularly romantic. 

Jeremy chewed his lip as he remembered the smile on Squip's face before he'd been caught watching, how cute it'd been, and gave Squip's shoulders a squeeze.

"Dance with me right now."

The corner of Squip's mouth flicked up. "Really?"

"Y-yeah, I mean, so long as it's not the Vienna Waltz again..."

"Oh." Squip's smile spread teasingly across his face. "I gave up on teaching you that."

"Come _on_ , I wasn't _that_ bad!"

"You have two left feet. I'm sorry, Jeremy, but it's impossible, even for me."

"What _ever_." He huffed, pouting slightly as he snatched up the remote and unmuted the volume. The music filled the apartment again--he hoped the neighbors wouldn't complain. Jeremy swayed awkwardly as he readjusted his hands on Squip's shoulders. Squip was smiling at him a little more delicately than before and he could feel his face heating up. Knowing Squip, that's what he was going for. "Are you going to lead, or..."

"Of course." Squip stepped back, tugging Jeremy along with him, away from the couch and anything he could dramatically trip over. They pulled him in closer, hips flush together, swaying slowly from side-to-side. Jeremy didn't know exactly what he'd been expecting, something more chaotic and full of energy maybe; Squip didn't really seem to care that the movement didn't match the fast-paced rhythm of the music playing. They stayed like that until the song ended, pressed together, Squip occasionally leaning into Jeremy's face and pressing a kiss to his cheek or jaw. 

"Are you sure you don't want me to take you out somewhere?" 

Squip had dipped him a little and Jeremy clung to Squip's shoulders for dear life, not that he was in any actual risk of falling. 

"Only if you genuinely want to. I like this enough." Squip's smile grew into something more playful. He held Jeremy in that same position, tilted down, Squip hovering over him. 

"I can handle it once in a while." 

"Mmm." Squip dipped him a little further, then pulled him back up to kiss his shoulder. "Tomorrow night then."

"Tomorrow?"

"Is that a problem?" He nuzzled his nose carefully into Jeremy's neck.

"N-no, I just..."

"Good." One of Squip's hands vacated its hold on his hip to slide around his back, holding Jeremy more firmly against him. "And no complaining."

"I'm not going to complain!"

"If you do, I'll have to punish you."

" _Punish_ me? How-" Jeremy didn't get to finish, because Squip attacked the side of his throat with an onslaught of soft, teasing kisses. And it tickled.

A lot. 

Jeremy attempted to pull himself away from Squip's attack, but his grip on him was ironclad, and it was impossible to wriggle free. He snorted a surprised laugh that quickly dissolved into desperate giggles.

" _Jesus_ Christ, _fuck_ -" He tried to shove Squip's face away with his hands, but it was useless. Squip only increased the frequency of the tickling, and he could feel the curve of his smug smile widen against his skin the more he struggled. He'd been doing Squip a favor, and now he was getting punished. 

Unbelievable. 

"Really? In front of my salad?"

Jeremy didn't see Michael so much as hear him. He hadn't even realized Michael was home, far too distracted by Squip to notice the front door open or Michael skirt into the kitchen. Squip paused, allowing Jeremy enough time to spy Michael standing on the other side of the room, a bowl of potato salad in his hands. Squip pulled Jeremy in again, pulling his face into his chest, chin resting on top of Jeremy's head. He squeezed Squip's shoulder's half-heartedly, voice muffled against their shirt.

"Hey, Michael..."

"No one told you that you had to watch," Squip quipped, voice full of irritation.

"Dude, I _live_ here. Get a room."

"The living room is free for everyone to use, Michael."

"Do I have to shield my eyes wherever I go, now?"

"I don't know, do you like the view?" Squip's voice dropped to something a little huskier, and before Jeremy could protest, he felt Squip's hands drift down to his ass, cupping and giving it a squeeze, causing Jeremy to yelp in surprise.

"Squip!"

"Alright. I'm out." Jeremy heard Michael's feet quickly shuffle in the direction of his room. "Have fun with that, Jere."

"You didn't have to do that." Jeremy pressed his forehead into Squip's shoulder, hiding the flush of his cheek. It was an empty complaint and both he and Squip knew it.

"Of course I did, he needs to learn his place in the roommate hierarchy. That's very important when sharing a living space, Jeremy."

He groaned, dropping his arms from Squip's shoulders to wrap loosley around his waist. Which was when Jeremy remembered that the ice cream was still on the counter. It was probably soup by now.

"Would you like to continue?" Squip's voice was a purr in his ear.

Jeremy tilted his head up to look at Squip.

He could always buy more ice cream.

"I'll lead this time."

"I'd like to see you try."


	5. Shower Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Around chapter 5-ish.

They had decided to take a shower. 

There wasn’t exactly a need to, but they did it anyway if only to figure out why Jeremy always took 46.7-minute showers on average every day. Squip had always seen it as an inefficient waste of time.

It was nice.

Squip was aware of every droplet of water as they hit his artificial skin, watched it travel down the length of his arm, and drip from his fingertips. They marveled at it, at the familiarity of the sensation and the utter foreignness of the experience. The heat of the water seemed to seep into their epidermis and manufactured muscles, relieving a tension Squip hadn’t been aware of. Before it had just been the chill of the lab, or the plush of the mattress, and the weight of Jeremy against their chest.

Unadulterated sensation, filtered through nothing but Squip’s own set of nerves. They had memories of touch, from before. Brief, flickering flashes of a life that didn’t belong to them, intermingled with the data fed to them through their connection to Jeremy’s nervous system. Even the texture of the acrylic shower knob beneath their fingertips was fascinating. If they weren’t careful, though, it was nearly overwhelming. Squip found they needed to carefully sift through what physical sensation was important and which was not, filing things away into the autonomous parts of their programming to avoid data overload. Everything was new, and intimate, and intense.

Sometimes he needed to sit with his eyes closed, blocking all sound and touch, in order to feel stabilized.

Close, physical proximity to Jeremy helped. His presence was like a calming anchor, allowing Squip a moment to relax and focus themselves on what actually mattered. He mused on the irony of it; Squip didn’t think Jeremy had ever been truly and completely calm in his life, so the effect was humorous. The problem was mostly in Jeremy’s complete avoidance of him. Squip understood the strangeness of it all and was highly aware of the conflicted emotions that flickered through him when they were together, but he would try to reach out, to touch him, and Jeremy would pull away.

It was distressing. Understandable, but distressing. 

Squip pressed his back into the wall of the shower, noting the stark contrast of the cool, damp tiles with the hot water. They focused on the noise of the water against the tub, the wrinkling of their skin, the clean smell of soap, and imagined what it would be like if Jeremy was in the shower with them now. Jeremy’s arms wrapped around him, slick skin of his chest pressed into his back, soft kisses against Squip’s shoulder. He was almost desperate for it, and he nearly considered asking Jeremy to join him now. 

But he didn’t.

That was selfish and unnecessary, and Squip had spent enough time before being selfish. Jeremy had nearly died, because of it. 

Besides, Squip was finally starting to see the appeal of grotesquely long, solitary showers, anyway.


End file.
